


The First Night

by sootonthecarpet



Category: Raffles - E. W. Hornung
Genre: Angst, Burglary, Canonical Character Death, Clothed Sex, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feels, First Time, French Kissing, Hand Jobs, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Internalized Homophobia, Love, M/M, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, POV First Person, Period Typical Attitudes, Period-Typical Homophobia, Presumed Dead, Smoking, Triggers, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-08
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2018-01-04 02:14:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1075337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sootonthecarpet/pseuds/sootonthecarpet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Raffles is always a little strange after successful robberies. Bunny Manders finds himself conflicted after a stunning experience at the Albany.</p><p>Pre-<i>No Sinecure</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The First Night

**Author's Note:**

> Aside from what's in the tags, warning for some references to past suicidal!Bunny, and take note that Raffles is an asshole, as per usual.
> 
> Hella angst. Sort of upsetting ending, but it's better if you keep in mind that _The Black Mask_ happens.

We had just returned to the Albany after a successful and amoral evening. My companion had already changed out of his dinner jacket and settled onto the sofa, a drink in his hand. I was standing, fidgeting nervously as I watched him. He had left a conspicuous space beside himself on the sofa. He always wanted me to sit and stay with him, and with every theft it took him less time to convince me. A smirk pulled at the corners of his wicked mouth as I moved to join him. He offered me a cigarette and I was reminded of Pluto and Proserpina. Certainly I felt like Proserpina. I always felt very thirsty after robberies and had long since finished my drink. The cigarette went into my hand without question.

“A good night, wouldn’t you say?” he asked me. I nodded and tried not to look at him as his eyes ran playfully up and down my figure. He was always a little strange after our excursions. I knew how they excited him, but I did not like the thoughts that followed when I thought of it.

He settled an arm around my shoulders. “Why don’t you speak, my rabbit?” The arm went rigid as I began to pull away, but when I pressed against it to get up, it relaxed immediately. Still, I could not bring myself to actually stand. He met my eyes and might have been laughing in my face.

“Bunny, why do you so often wish to follow the law?” He said, mirth clear in his voice.

“Because they say I ought to.”

“And is that why you try to draw away?”

There was no good answer to that, so I closed my eyes and leaned against his side. He stroked my arm gently until I drew in a shuddering breath.

“Let me light that for you,” said he as he took my cigarette. I watched as he lit it and took several drags from it before returning it to me. I sat back up to smoke it, trying to keep as cool as I could when all I could think was that his throat and cheeks were stil flushed from the pleasure he took in our thievery and my lips were where his had been not moments earlier. His hand crept into my free one and he worked a fingertip under my cuff. I gasped as he stroked my wrist gently. After long moments, he stilled his touch. I turned my hand a little so that he would not feel my pulse. He remained as he was for a while, watching me smoke. With a deliberate slowness, he lifted my hand in both of his own and began to remove my shirt-cuff.

“Raffles, what are you doing…?”

“Oh, do you mind it?”

I had to think for a while before I could answer definitely. “No,” I said, fairly certain it was less of a lie than ‘yes’ would be.

“Then what does it matter?”

I swallowed several times and failed to furnish a suitable answer. 

“There,” he said soothingly as he set the cuff on the coffee table.

“Ah...”

“Now, do finish your cigarette.”

I continued smoking nervously. He turned his face so that I was looking at his profile, an activity I generally went at with enthusiasm.

“How does it feel to have my arm on your shoulders, Bunny?”

“Warm…”

“Not bad?”

“Not usually.”

He met my eyes and held my gaze firmly. “May I do it again?”

I gave up on our cigarette and ground it out.

“Raffles…”

“Well?”

“Do,” I said quietly, shifting closer. He looked faintly smug as he pulled me to his side. The arm was around my body this time, although I was not complaining. I couldn’t stop a faint groan as he gently pressed his fingertips into my side.  
“We did this all the time in school, Bunny,” he said, leaning his head towards me until his curls brushed my face and neck. “What’s changed? Ah, don’t answer, in wondering I have answered myself. School is a freer environment for such things, I remember now.”

He turned his face to mine for a few moments. His mouth brushed over my temple and ear, but his lips were still as he did so. When he drew away, I leaned my head on his shoulder.

“You did that more often, too, ” he said.

I closed my eyes as his hand traced up and down my side. 

“I’ve missed it,” he added. He resettled his shoulders against me and suddenly my ear was right up against his neck. I could feel his pulse in it. It was very quick.

“Will you stay the night?” he asked me quietly.

“On the sofa…?” I asked with nervous hesitation.

I felt his hand come to a stop on my hip and squeeze gently. “Now, why would you ask me that?”

He began to move his hand closer to my thighs.

“Raffles…”

“Shall I stop?”

I swallowed and shook my head.

“There, see… it’s quite alright,” he murmured, gently petting and squeezing my genitals as I gasped and shuddered. He left his hand positioned there, absolutely still but a firm, hot presence nontheless. “Wouldn’t you like me to kiss you?”

He turned his head and barely brushed his lips over mine, then pressed them against my mouth more firmly, moving them with the apparent objective of parting mine. I moaned as he traced my lower lip with his tongue.

“There.”

I stammered.

“Come, Bunny, there’s nothing wrong with it…” He took his hand off my crotch, rubbing my inner thigh instead. It was less intense, but felt no less intimate. I think I trembled. Raffles’s other hand slid beneath mine and raised it. “Would you like to try touching me, instead?”

“T—touching?”

“As I’ve been touching you,” he clarified.

“No, I, I’m, wait a little while, Raffles, I’m unused to it yet.”

“Of course,” he said, nibbling at one of my ears. He began unfastening my trousers, quite slow about it. At last he slid his hand inside and I almost cried out. He stopped, and I met his eyes to find him making an odd expression.

“What is it, Raffles?” I asked him.

“I was going to ask you the same—forgive me, Bunny, I thought you might have been in pain. It was an odd sound you made.”

“Not pain,” I assured him.

“Then I’ll continue,” he murmured as he took me in hand. I threw my head back against the sofa as I felt him dragging his hand along my length. I couldn’t keep quiet and made no effort to muffle the moans that he so easily drew forth. His other hand crept behind me and under my waistcoat. I felt those fingers move oddly—I realized that he must be unfastening my bracers when he brought his hand to my front and repeated the process more visibly. He pushed my trousers down to my knees, and grinned when I blushed and shifted nervously.

“I find you quite attractive,” he informed me, stroking me quicker. “Particularly like this…”

He leaned close to me and started on the buttons of his own trousers, reaching for the very notable bulge under the fabric. I looked away, but it was impossible to pretend I didn’t know what he was doing, and, to my shame, I only felt myself harden further when he began to moan against my ear.

“Oh, Bunny,” he said, voice sensual and indulgent as I pressed my hips into his hand. “I know you must find it terribly wrong, but how can I help it when I’m presented with you… If you shan’t touch me yet, I simply must touch myself.”

I gasped as his words fell upon me. The moans and the little hitches in his breath were bringing me nearly as much enjoyment as his hand on my cock, an enjoyment which was compounded further when he bent his head and began to suck gently upon my throat. Some vague, silly part of me was awed at his coordination, for he seemed to be moving his hands on the both of us at different paces. I felt abandoned by rationality. I slid my hand into his lap and took his wrist to still his hand. “Please… Raffles... Slow down on me and tell me what to do.”

He did as I asked him, easing his pace on my cock. He met my eyes, and smiled soothingly as I wrapped hesitant fingers around him. “Oh,” he said softly when I began to move. “Yes, my rabbit, that’s it. You can squeeze a little tighter,” he added, gazing at me with half-closed eyes, “I shan’t break.”

I kissed him weakly, and he chuckled and slid his tongue into my mouth, rubbing it against my own. “You’ve never done this before, then?” he asked upon drawing back, touching my wrist to guide me into a proper rhythmn. I shook my head. 

“Not even at school? I must say, it does come as a surprise… You are so beautiful…”

“Ah, don’t say such things,” I gasped. He smirked and affectionately squeezed my wrist. I did my best to concentrate on pleasing him. “Yes, there you are,” he moaned, relaxing against the sofa and continuing to stroke me languidly. I was beginning to get a feel for what I was doing, and the noises he made became absolutely filthy. I shut my eyes to better hear him. At last his head dropped onto my shoulder. “Bunny,” he said, in a strained voice, higher pitched than I had ever previously heard him. I pressed my lips to his damp forehead. “Please go just a little quicker, Bunny,” he whispered, tense and hot. “Oh, ohh yes, that’s it. Just so…” His hand quickened upon me almost desperately, but his grip was looser and he seemed hardly paying attention. His moans became shorter in duration and higher in pitch. His body tensed against my side until he gave a louder moan and a long, tremulous sigh.

His hand stilled on my cock. He rolled his head back and met my eyes with a little smirk.

“That was quite worth my dishevling my trousers over… There, Bunny, I’m sure I shall concentrate on you much better now,” he said, turning half towards me on the sofa and resuming his attentions. It shames me to admit, but I was louder than he. There was something to his touch that I simply lost myself in. It was overwhelming. He seemed to know exactly what sensation I needed and how to give it to me. Liquid was dribbling freely from the tip of my cock. When he began to run his thumb in circles around the tip of me, I felt I nearly fainted. I’m sure I must have embarrassed myself with emphatic moans, but I couldn’t help it. He was dragging me closer to the edge, tension in me building and building. He licked my lips and kissed me roughly. “Your mouth tastes so sweet,” he murmured. “Oh god,” I gasped.

He leaned in close so that his curls were brushing my face even when his mouth and mine were apart. “It shan’t take long now, will it?” he said, heavy eyelids and low tones contrasting sharply with his devilish smirk. I shook my head and he held my cock firmer. He was focusing on me intently. Unable to control myself under his ministrations, I became so loud that he pressed his hand over my mouth. In spite of this startling action, the tightness and heat in my hips continued to build, and then—I experienced what still ranks among the most powerful sensations I have ever felt. He pressed his cheek to mine and slowed his hand as I stilled and quieted, and at length he took his hands away.

I looked at him with apprehension and poorly concealed awe. He smirked and kissed me, thorough yet gentle, his tongue on mine much more of a caress.

“How sweetly you scream for me, my rabbit,” he whispered, which was more than I could bear. I turned away from him and hid my face between my arms and the back of the sofa.

“Feeling a bit overwhelmed?” he asked smoothly, assuming wrongly that a physical sensation was the root of my action. I shook my head. He stood up and walked off calmly, probably to clean himself up. I didn’t really want him to go, but I couldn’t get the words out to stop him. I was sure he would only laugh at me, anyway. I felt cold and a little shaky, and wanted to curl up tightly in my own bed in Mount Street. I felt more alone than I had felt since March, and my chest ached. I did not realize Raffles had returned, and started badly when he touched me on the shoulder.

“Bunny, are you ill?”

I shook my head and pressed my face further into the back of the sofa.

“Now, Bunny,” he said, settling back down beside me. I sat up properly and rubbed at my face. 

“Bunny…”

“What, Raffles.”

“Bunny, look at me…”

I obliged him.

“If I let you go home tonight, how much will you drink?”

“A lot.”

His mouth tightened and he stood up. “You will have to stay here tonight,” he said. “Take the bedroom, I’ll sleep on the sofa. You can borrow my pyjamas or somesuch. Perhaps I shouldn’t have pushed you so, but no matter.” He noticed I was biting my lip uncomfortably. “I can’t simply let you go off and drink yourself unconscious on my account. It’s bad enough how you used to get after robberies.”

I winced.

“Bunny, don’t get this way,” he began with a little sharpness. Then, he seemed to pull himself back. “Bunny,” he said gently, sitting beside me again as I slumped forward. “I’m sorry…”

His voice sounded blissfully tender, but I knew better than anyone how easily he could lie.

“Bunny, I want to help. Can I?”

I met his eyes for a few moments, but I could not bear it for long, and looked back down.

He sighed slowly. When I glanced up at him again, he bore a faint expression of discomfort. At the time, I did not think to connect it to sadness.

“I think you should get to bed, Bunny,” he said, forcing a caricature of a reassuring smile. He slid a hand under my elbow and gently nudged me to my feet. I went silently, unsure of how to respond to him. He led me to his room and offered me some pyjamas, which I refused. “Very well, my rabbit,” he said with a shrug as I undressed. When I was naked, I felt his hands upon my shoulders. To my embarrasment, he pressed me back against the pillows and tucked me firmly into bed.

“That’s not at all neecssary, Raffles.”

“Hush… I’m sure it will make you more comfortable. A cheap way to show I care, but you’ve always liked it when I’m sweet to you.”

I frowned in annoyance, but the tightness of the blanket over my chest and shoulders was very pleasing. He left me, darkening the room on his way out. I shut my eyes.

Morning came too early for my tastes, the sunlight forcing me awake well before I would have preferred it. My head ached for sleep. I managed to get a little more, but I woke to Raffles sitting on the bed and laying his hand on my chest. 

“Good morning,” I said, grumpy at the intrusion.

“Are you feeling better?” he asked with a hint of impatience, raising an eyebrow.

“Possibly. I was hoping to sleep for longer,” I said pointedly. He shrugged and sat back a little, making room for me as I pushed myself up from the bed. My trousers, I noticed, were folded neatly alongside the rest of my clothes. “Are we going to talk about last night?” I asked, with my brows raised in turn. “I hardly know my feelings on the matter, let alone yours—should you have them.”

“That isn’t funny, my rabbit…”

I shrugged, perhaps cruelly. He stared at me and finally burst into laughter. “Fair enough,” he exclaimed, “Fair enough.”

“Now, Raffles…” I felt as if I had proven myself, and perhaps he’d be more inclined to listen to me now. “Tell me.” 

“Well… I am rather worried, and quite confused, and a little resentful of your sensitivity and cowardice—not so much that it prevents me from treating you with the sympathy I probably ought extend to you at such a delicate time.”

I nodded. It was better than I had feared, at least. He was watching me steadily, but I stared down at the bed.  
“Would you like to stay for breakfast?” he asked. “Or perhaps to reciprocate my confession, at least?”

I frowned at him. “My feelings are I will not stay for breakfast.” In truth, I felt sad, conflicted, and scared. I loved Raffles—that was a certainty, and I had known it for some time. But there is a difference between the mess of feelings inside me, admiration from afar, unrequited love, frightened loathing for what he did to all I had hoped to hold good about myself, my morals, a twisted up mass of emotions held forever inside my soul—and the actuality of a relationship with the man, a dangerous prospect made worse by the danger of the man himself. I loved Raffles, the way his eye sparkled and his hands rested on me, much more open and honest than anything I had ever seen them do. His hair, so often left to fall over his face and the nape of his neck. I loved him for the way he laughed after terrible danger, and the kindness with which he sometimes treated me. I did not entirely believe it was there. Sometimes, I still do not. Even now that he is gone, the sea having swallowed him, (a more soothing thought than that he survived the long swim and has chosen to abandon me,) it is difficult to remember him as other than he was. I am sure I do not do him justice. I rememer the hidden, almost genuine quality of sadness with which his smile was permeated the night I lost my former love for good, a night I still lack the heart to commit to paper. I remember the Ides of March, his trickery that should have been unforgivable, contrasting so sharply with the way he did, at length, commit himself to saving my life. I saw something similar in him another time—I should have hated him more for desiring the murder of one man than I loved him for preventing the suicide of another, but I could not. The days after that incident were not comfortable for me, old feelings being resurfaced, but he did not entirely neglect me. In fact, he came to my aid with whiskey and a story of his past. But I am dwelling, and I do not wish it.

At the moment which I departed from my narrative, I was attempting to communicate the effort I was putting into coming to terms with the difference between an unrequited love from afar for a beautiful and unattainable man and the legal and moral dangers of a homosexual relationship with my friend. He gave me plenty of time to do it. He saw me off at the door and did not press intimacy upon me in the following weeks. In fact, we did not even discuss the incident until, quite out of the blue and at a very strange moment, he reached up from his lock picking to grab my shoulder and murmured into my ear.

“Perhaps I overstepped that night. I apologize.”

I was a little stunned and blushed deeply. He went back to his work and I heard a soft cry of joy as the lock clicked open. Just before we parted that morning, I thanked him. I was certain he knew what for. It was not many days later that I rose to my toes in the Albany and hesitantly kissed him. When his arms wrapped around me I knew I had made the right decision. After a couple of weeks, he backed me gently into a wall and undressed me.

I never spoke of love save for a few drunken murmurs in his ear on rare nights when he was buried deep inside me. I was too much of a coward, or, perhaps, I was keeping myself rightly safe. I am uncertain if he knew. I do not know if I hope for it or against it.

But I see I have stained my pages with my tears.

**Author's Note:**

> (Yeah, I put Le Premier Pas as being something Raffles did to distract Bunny after a triggering event.)


End file.
